


A Breath of Fresh Air

by mckendie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Meetings, Forehead Kisses, Laying down in the middle of the court because thats the best pass time, Training Camp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 20:04:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11238210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mckendie/pseuds/mckendie
Summary: "It was the thrill of roots tying him to the court, tangling through his fingers and pulling him up and up and up until he could bring his hand forward, smashing through the ball like it was nothing."Volleyball would always be something Bokuto had. Some things weren't as permanent.





	A Breath of Fresh Air

Koutarou was on the empty court, arms spread wide on the cool wooden floor and one leg propped on top of the other, the light fixtures above his head blinding him.

He wasn't tired really, but he could feel some soreness in his muscles, tight and fatigued under his skin. His hands curled into fists and then back out with every breath, letting his muscles relax.

As he drifted, halfway between wakefulness and the darkness behind his eyelids, the net acting as the gym's door brushed along the floor and someone stepped inside. Careful of his tense muscles, Koutarou arched his back and stared as far back as he could to see who had walked in.

It was the setter from Aoba Johsai, hands planted firmly on his hips, eye set with determination that almost made Koutarou feel small.

Despite the feeling, he waved, the movement slightly awkward and half abandoned from his position on the ground.

The setter, he was nearly sure the guy's name was Oikawa, sat down beside him, legs crossed and back perfectly straight. Koutarou didn't move, just watched with wide eyes as the white uniform settled across his shoulders.

“Bokuto Koutarou?” he asked, an eyebrow raised and his head tilted down to meet Koutarou's eyes. He nodded.

Oikawa laughed, light and airy and free; a sound so close to that feeling of soaring that only came to Koutarou on the court. “That's good, it would've been embarrassing if I had the wrong name. I'm Oikawa Tooru.”

“I know,” he muttered, letting his gaze flick from Oikawa back towards the lights, ignoring the spots dancing in his vision.

They sat in silence for awhile, eyes focused away from each other until Koutarou felt something like peace, something like calmness and steadiness deep in his chest, behind his lungs. It wasn't a feeling that came easily to him.

Oikawa watched him stand with wide eyes, their innocence offset by a cunning smile. Before Koutarou could fully leave the building, hand inches away from the thick net of the exit, his voice echoed through the gym.

“Want to practice?” Koutarou wasn't sure where Oikawa had found the ball but it was there, tucked firmly under his arm.

The answer was too easy.

He quickly learned that Oikawa's sets felt like a breath of fresh air, like a iron band had unwound itself from his lungs, slamming into the floor on the other side of the net like a bullet when they met his palm.

The thrill of it felt like thick cords, tying him to the court, tangling through his fingers and pulling him up and up and up until he could bring his hand forward, smashing through the ball like it was nothing.

 

That night, they practiced far too long and the next day of practice matches wrought sore muscles and aching joints. Koutarou made sure he stretched his shoulder until it felt like putty.

Oikawa found him the day after their matches, lying beneath the net this time, staring at how it cut the ceiling in two with a thick line.

Again, Oikawa’s sets danced over the edge of the net for him, easy as breathing, easy as the blood in his veins. He felt something planting itself on his heart, firm and warm, every time his palm met the ball and he could look to his left and see Oikawa smiling, like he had seen something magical. The practice camp ended sooner than Koutarou would have liked, in the opposite of spectacular fashion. It ended beside the Aoba Johsai bus, Oikawa's hand tight in his and with a small smile just a little too sad for Koutarou’s taste.

“You're going to nationals, Bokuto. Right?”

Oikawa's palms didn't have any calluses, not like Koutarou's did, but on his fingertips, where they rubbed lightly over Koutarou's wrist, the skin was rough and worn.

“Of course.” He said it like a promise, like there was nothing that could stop him. Oikawa believed him.

Oikawa stared at him for another second, eyes intense and searching, before he let go of his hand and ran his fingers through Koutarou's unstyled hair, laughing softly when it flopped into his face. “I'll see you there one way or another.”

Koutarou nodded, and before he could say something else, a promise or an affirmation, Oikawa’s lips were pressed to his forehead and he was gone, boarding the bus with a nonchalant wave.

Akaashi found him after the bus had left, seated on the warm concrete and thinking, palms dragging over the rough grain of the pavement. He sat down beside him, silent and waiting.

Koutarou thinks that it was the first time he hadn't wanted to share what was on his mind with his best friend.

“Oikawa Tooru?” Akaashi asked, like he didn't already know the answer, eyes drooping in the bright sunlight and face neutral.

Koutarou nodded, fingers grinding into the concrete again, relishing the scratch against the skin. Akaashi didn't kick his hands out of their movement like he usually would, feet tucked neatly underneath his knees.

“I’ve known him for three days,” Koutarou explained. “Three days, Akaashi.”

Akaashi seemed to understand him, despite the lack of reaction. He let himself slump forward, his forehead resting on the younger boy's shoulder. Akaashi put his arms across his shoulders, a warm weight against his back that felt like flying through the air before a spike.

“He said he'd see you at nationals?” Akaashi asked into his shoulder, voice muffled a little.

Koutarou thinks for just a moment that he'd never need to invest in a mind reader when he had Akaashi at his shoulder. “Yeah, he promised, no matter what.”

He hummed thoughtfully, as if he hadn't already planned out his exact words like Koutarou knew he had.

“Then what do you have to worry about?” Akaashi grinned, tiny but there nonetheless, and stood, extending a hand to help Koutarou up.

He took it and pulled himself up, a wide grin on his face. “Nothing at all.”


End file.
